


come run your hands through my hair

by byunkies



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Affection, Established Relationship, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, No Sex, No Smut, Slice of Life, Song: my hair (Ariana Grande), animal documentaries, idk how to tag this, nothing sexual here, recurring themes, thesaurus dot com i love u so bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byunkies/pseuds/byunkies
Summary: karl's love language is so painfully physical touch, and despite how often he makes that clear, sapnap has always been so reluctant to touch him.and what a shame that is, really.
Relationships: Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 12
Kudos: 553





	come run your hands through my hair

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted this to turn out a different way but it then became something else in the process so i had no idea how to tag or title this LOL 
> 
> also as far as i know, both karl and sapnap are comfortable with shipping as long as it isn't weird or just generally gross. the moment one of them says otherwise, i'll delete this lest disrespecting their wishes

Midday proves itself to be Karl’s favorite hour as its yellow warmth hits his face and he basks in its heat. He’s always liked how even during the colder, bluer times of the year, the in between of twelve to two is so welcoming and gentle. Even when its gleam isn’t so strong, Karl lets it rest on his skin and soak. 

On a perfect hour of twelve and forty-four minutes in, Karl is curled up like a cat on his couch, using proud sunbeams as a blanket. His eyes are softly closed and his lips ever so slightly curled upwards. He hears sluggish footsteps walk in the kitchen and infers that Sapnap has  _ finally _ awoken from his slumber. 

“Mornin’,” he mumbles. The footsteps approach him, and their person leans down and kisses him on the cheek. 

“Hey,” Sapnap responds lowly, voice a bit scratchy from dehydration. 

Karl’s cheek pleasantly adopts a pink hue from the affection. A phantom silhouette sits hesitantly above his hair - he can feel it. A slight disappointment seeps as that silhouette disappears, leaving him alone. 

He understands why Sapnap is so reluctant to be affectionate with him: he’s always been so anxious about making Karl uncomfortable (despite the older man making it extremely clear that it’s nearly impossible for that to happen), and he’s just now allowed himself to plant small, casual kisses amongst him. Karl wishes so badly that the other would realize how much touching meant to him - hugging, stroking, rubbing, holding hands, kissing, and  _ especially _ playing with hair. With his fluffy locks being so present all of the time, he would’ve expected that Sapnap would at least run the occasional hand through, but it seemed to be quite the opposite. 

Pulled out of his thoughts, weight spreads on the other side of the couch, and he opens his eyes and peers across to see Sapnap eating cereal so peacefully. Karl readjusts and props himself up so that he’s sitting criss cross. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Sapnap apologizes. 

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t even asleep.” He offers him a tired smile in assurance, which the latter barely returns. “Are you gonna turn something on?” Sapnap shakes his head, so Karl reaches for the remote and switches through different channels, finally settling on an animal documentary. 

Sapnap cocks an eyebrow in a playful teasing manner. “ _ Animal Planet? _ ” 

Karl fakes offense with a dramatic little huff, which earns a smirk out of the younger man. Careful not to spill any milk or cereal, Karl scootches over and rests his head on his shoulder, cheek squished against cotton. 

On the television, the narrator examines the African scene of two meerkats ‘grooming each other with such great care and tenderness, as they have recently mated and wouldn’t dare to harm one another.’ Karl glances at Sapnap through his brown tufts and notices a tiny, lopsided grin. He doesn’t think twice about it, though, because his own lips are content watching the meerkats. 

The documentary shortly pauses to show commercials, and Sapnap slips off the cushions to take care of his dishes. Karl whines due to the lack of human warmth in a halfhearted manner. He watches the other man rinse his bowl and spoon and stick them in the dishwasher. 

“D’you want anything to eat? Coffee?” 

Karl shakes his head. “Nah, I had toast when it was  _ actually _ morning.” Sapnap rolls his eyes with a stupid grin. 

He states that he’s headed to the bathroom real quick, and that Karl shouldn’t pause the documentary if it starts before he’s out. Temporarily alone, the older man moves back onto the other side of the couch, where the muted sunbeam rests, and lets that heat comfort him. 

The documentary does resume before Sapnap is back, and Karl’s kind of glad it does, because it picks up on two meerkats fighting to the death. He stares blankly at the screen - he had no idea such adorable creatures could be so aggressive and  _ lethal _ . The scene changes to a mother meerkats caring for her children, and Sapnap enters the room. Karl thinks that if he told him about the previous part, he would’ve never believed him. 

“You look like a cat when you’re all curled up like that,” he comments, gesturing to his position. 

“It’s warm.” 

Sapnap sits back on the couch, and Karl flips his position and settles his head on the other’s lap. A hand rests itself on his horizontal waist. The warmth of Sapnap’s hand is all Karl can focus on now, and he enjoys it as much as he possibly can. The younger man’s other hand rests on his own thigh, and its fingertips are just hardly making contact with light brown locks. Karl fights the urge to tell him to play with his hair because it would feel so nice and he’d feel so loved, lest Sapnap feel uneasy and awkward and unwilling. 

Instead, he just watches meerkats act erratically and savor the feeling of physical touch. 

  
  


…

  
  


The next midday, now one hour and ten minutes in, is dreary and dark. There aren’t any sunbeams shining with pride - instead, it’s raining and the sun is nowhere visible. Karl doesn’t like the rain at all; it’s noisy, wet, sad, humid, and overall unpleasant. He wishes towards the window for the rain to cease and the sun to return. 

Sapnap dislikes the rain, too, but for separate reasoning: his microphone picks it up whenever he’s recording and distorts the audio. However, when he’s not attempting to make content, he enjoys the rain. 

“It’s so serene and calming,” he explains in defense of the gloomy weather. 

Karl argues back, “It’s loud and annoying. Plus, it’s cold and can make you sick.” 

“That’s only if you’re standing in it! If you’re listening from indoors, it’s totally better than warm weather.” 

“Scientific studies have shown that rain makes people sad, and that’s a big con.” 

“The sun can give you cancer.” It’s a bit hard to come up with something worse than cancer on the spot, so Karl just huffs and cuddles closer to Sapnap. The younger man puts his arm around his shoulder, fingers awkwardly toying with a cotton shoulder hem. Karl wants him to feel natural with these physical movements, but he knows that it’s a lot to ask for so soon. He’d rather him ease into it at his own pace than dive in and feel nervous and out-of-place. 

They’re snuggled on their shared bed with a fuzzy blanket hugging both of them, watching another animal documentary about East Asian wildlife. Sapnap had expressed his sincere enjoyment of the meerkats film, so it became a habit to turn on Animal Planet when they’d watch something together. 

Pandas are just as misleading meerkats, Karl observes, as two male pandas fight for dominance and the hand of a female panda. He wonders how many other cute, falsely-benign creatures are like this. 

As if he was reading his thoughts, Sapnap commentates, “Animals are terrifying.” Karl laughs and remembers the meerkats. 

The Australian narrator then moves on to a group of pandas grooming each other, and Karl feels a sense of dejavu. 

The weight of Sapnap’s arm becomes noticeable again as he stretches it out a bit, covering more of the recipient’s shoulders. His fingers aren’t awkward anymore, but it’s so obvious how he wants to do something with them; Karl can feel that potential energy just  _ oozing _ from the digits. 

“Hey,” he starts, quickly gaining the attention of Sapnap, “you can, like, touch me, y’know?” 

“I know, I just don’t want to-” 

“You won’t. I promise.” 

Silence and contemplation sit in the air. “Okay.” Cautiously, Sapnap runs his fingers among Karl’s small shoulder, applying gentle pressure at some moments. It’s a bit humorous how delicate he is with massaging, but Karl doesn’t complain. His touch isn’t as natural as it could be, but it’s somewhere near it, and that’s all that’s necessary. 

Smiling like an idiot, he returns his attention back to the documentary, which is now focused on elephants. 

  
  


… 

  
  


Nighttime is tranquil, and its hour is unknown. Laying in silence on their bed, under the covers, Karl looks into the abyss whilst Sapnap is half-asleep.

They’re so close that Karl can feel the other’s ajar mouth slip slight breaths. His arm is sprawled horizontally, fingertips grazing the older man’s nape. Karl can hardly feel them, but they’re so meaningful in his narrative. 

He reflects on how hesitant Sapnap is when it comes to physical touch, and he wonders why that is. As far as he knows, the latter didn’t have any past problems with that sort of affection, so he could rule that out. He questions if maybe he’s actually receiving a normal amount of skin-to-skin sensation, and he’s just incredibly touch-craving, but something inarticulate tells him that’s not the case, either. 

He knows that he’s made it unfathomably clear that he accepts literally  _ all _ forms of contact. Maybe he needs to narrow it down so that Sapnap has clear options? Or maybe he just needs to create some masterlist of touches he wants? 

No, that’s a stupid idea. 

He can’t think of any other theories to explain the latter’s hesitance, and as unsatisfying as it is, Karl accepts it as an unfortunate reality.

Fatigue growing stronger, he turns on his side so that he’s facing Sapnap and his neck is on top of his forearm. Sapnap’s wrist curls upwards so that he’s still in contact with the skin - it goes unnoticed in Karl’s thoughtless haze. 

Then, in a movement so soft and natural, Sapnap’s fingers find their way into Karl’s light brown locks, twisting and toying with strands. Karl grins so wide that his cheeks hurt. Even if the affection is half-conscious and a bit lazy, it’s not forced and it feels like heaven on earth. 

In the pitch-blackness of their bedroom, Karl grows lethargic and falls asleep with hands tangled in his hair. When he awakens, a familiar streak of sunlight sits just below his chin, and the digital-LED alarm clock next to his bed reads out  _ 12:15 P.M. _

He leans over, and the consciousness of Sapnap’s hand lightly holding clusters of his hair remains known as he plants a lazy kiss upon chapped lips. 

“Morning,” he says, voice raspy and in desperate need of water. 

Sapnap smiles tinily, and in the same manner of dry throat, he mumbles, “Hey, there,” and gives a light rustle to the hair in his grasp. 

Karl smiles, because it feels habitual. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> umm i’m scared of being accused with plagiarism and stuff so i want 2 say that this work wasnt inspired by anything else other than compilations on youtube of karl being touchy with the mrbeast team. if there are any similar fics that’s purely coincidental !!!! i had no intention of copying anyone if i did :> /gen


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